Knighthood
by Cyclone
Summary: The fate of the human race hangs in the balance... again. Part three of Knights in Crisis. On hold.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Knighthood (1?) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Violence, harsh language, the usual.

Spoilers: Up to Chosen and Red Eye's.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to a bunch of other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: An old hero's old enemy returns. Sequel to Fifth Knight and One Eye's.

Author's Note: Here's the promised sequel. Finally.

* * *

"So, what brings you to MegaTokyo?" Sylia asked as she sat at the table.

"An economic summit," Bruce replied with a faint smile.

"Really?" she raised an eyebrow. "I haven't heard anything about it."

"Very hush hush. There were representatives from every company working on robotics or boomer technology. Wayne-Powers, Xanatos Enterprises, Zone Corporation, Nightstone Unlimited, and more."

"I see."

Silence reigned as she digested that piece of information.

"By the way, I understand you've recruited a new member."

Sylia frowned, "You're very well informed."

Bruce nodded. "My... protege is following him at the moment."

"That might not be a good idea. My... ah... 'recruit' is... full of surprises."

Bruce grinned, "If he's who I think he is, this'll be a good lesson for the boy."

* * *

"All right," Xander stopped in the alleyway and turned, looking directly at the camouflaged figure. "You might as well come out now. That's a neat trick, but I've had to deal with real invisibility back in high school."

The figure shimmered and dropped down.

"You're good."

Xander snorted when he recognized the costume, "So, what does the real Batman think about you running around with his symbol on your chest?"

Batman seemed to glower at him, "I am Batman."

"And I'm the tooth fairy," Xander snorted. "You don't sound like him, you don't move like him, and he would never have let that kind of comment faze him. Believe me, I know. We had a... bit of a misunderstanding involving how I dealt with two of Gotham's... less savory population."

Terry froze at that. He knew Bruce. Bruce had nothing against roughing up a thug. The only line he wouldn't cross was... killing.

_That explains why the boss wanted me to keep an eye on him..._ he thought darkly.

But... he couldn't remember anyone who looked like this guy in the Batcomputer's files...

"What sort of misunderstanding?"

"He thought I was going to mug a couple of upstanding citizens," Xander replied coolly. "But the fact is, they were killers, and I was going to stop them. Now, are you going to stop following me, or are we gonna have to fight?"

* * *

"So, you know Xander?" Sylia asked, sipping her tea.

"We've met. That was about twenty years ago, though. He's quite good at what he does."

"To survive this long, he has to be."

"Indeed," Bruce nodded, lifting his coffee to his lips.

* * *

Xander ducked as the punch soared over his head and into the wall. He intercepted the charging costumed figure with a punch to the sternum, then barely threw himself aside before Batman responded.

"Is that all you've got?"

"I'm not even warmed up yet," Batman replied cockily.

"All right, I guess it's time I took off the kid gloves."

Terry boggled at that. Kid gloves?

He could already feel the bruise forming from that last punch, and this guy wasn't even fighting seriously?

No, he had to be bluffing. Terry knew he was, and he had the Batsuit, after all...

Five minutes later, Terry was reconsidering his assessment. This guy fought like the old man!

"All right," Xander said, hauling up Batman by the front of his suit. "Now, how about some answers?"

"Maybe later," Terry shot back as he fired his jets.

A moment later, he looked down in amazement. The man was still clinging to his legs, somehow managing to avoid getting burned by the jet trails.

"Let... go!"

"Not... happening!" Xander shot back.

Terry dove, barrel-rolled, and swerved, trying to lose him. "How the hell are you doing this?"

"I've had lots of practice."

* * *

"Excuse me," Bruce said as he felt his communicator vibrate. "I have to take this." He rose and headed for the corner. In a low voice, he spoke into the communicator, "Terry?"

/I'm having a little trouble here, boss! He spotted me, and now, I can't shake him./

"Where are you now?"

/About a thousand feet above that big canyon downtown./

"You're where?"

/He's stuck to me like a tick, boss, and he won't let go/

Bruce could barely contain a chuckle. No, his persistence had certainly not diminished over the years.

"Head for the Ladys 633 building," he adviced. "I think it's time you were introduced."

/'Introduced'? Wha-/ Bruce closed the communicator. He turned back to Sylia.

"I think it's time you met my protege."

* * *

"I see you've aged well."

Xander twisted around from where he was dangling from the Bat-imposter's legs and blinked in surprise at who he saw standing on the roof nearby.

"Bruce?" he asked. "What the hell are you doing here?" He paused and looked up at the man he was hanging onto, then looked back down at Bruce. "Wait, you mean you actually let this punk wear your suit?"

Bruce chuckled, "He's earned it."

"If you say so," Xander said skeptically as he let go and hopped down to the roof of the Ladys 633 building.

Batman landed and looked from Bruce to Xander, "You two know each other?"

Bruce nodded, "Yes. We had a bit of a misunderstanding, but he saved my life in the end. Vampires."

"You're kidding," Batman said.

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Right," Batman said. "I forgot. You don't kid."

"So, what are you doing here, old man?" Xander spoke up.

Bruce snorted, "I'm only a decade older than you, Harris. Don't call me that."

Batman stared at them.

"Long story," Xander said, waving it off. "You haven't answered my question."

"I thought I'd visit one of my... beneficiaries," Bruce nodded to Sylia.

Xander cocked an eyebrow, "Even if we count Mackie, we're four short of a round table."

"Five Knight Sabers, two Dark Knights, and a White Knight," Bruce stated. "Clever pun. Nygma might have appreciated it."

"More like grey," Xander said, rolling his eyes.

Batman's head swiveled toward Sylia, "You're one of the Knight Sabers?"

Xander blinked at him, then looked back at Bruce. Jerking a thumb toward Batman, he said, "He's a little slow on the uptake. What gives? You trying to ruin the World's Greatest Detective rep?"

"He has it where it counts," Bruce said. He leaned forward menacingly. "Don't question my judgment."

Xander held up his hands, "Okay, okay, fine. Still, how've you been?"

Bruce relaxed, "I've been all right. You?"

"'Bout the same as usual."

"That bad?"

* * *

In the skies above MegaTokyo, a two-man AD Police helicopter flew a routine patrol. The copilot picked up the radio mic and said, "This is ADP Air One reporting in. Things are actually quiet for once."

He jerked back as a shadow -- of something vaguely humanoid with wings -- flashed over the chopper.

"Did you see that?" his partner asked.

"Might be some new kind of boomer. Should we call it in?"

The pilot stared at him, "And say what? We saw a new boomer fly by, only we didn't actually see it, and it doesn't show up on radar?"

Meanwhile, the cause of that shadow continued gliding. The city below offended her. It was a labyrinth of concrete and steel, populated by humans. Like hyenas fighting over a rotting corpse, the humans turned on each other regularly, feeding off of each other and backstabbing each other.

Treachery was humanity's "gift" to world. It was as natural to them as breathing.

Not like her kind.

She folded her wings and swooped into a power dive toward her destination, an abandoned church. The message had been clear. One of her clan, here of all places, somehow alive.

She had to know.

* * *

Demona entered the church cautiously. While she had little fear of death -- she knew Macbeth was in their native Scotland at the moment -- she was not a fool. Pain was a well-known companion, but one she had little desire to encounter again.

She heard movement and reacted immediately. She spun, hopped to the side, and dropped into a crouch, ready to launch itself at whoever it was.

A figure stepped out. It was both familiar and strange. A metallic sheen rippled across it as it moved through the light.

"Hello, sister."

* * *

Author's Postscript:

How's this for "out of left field"? Recently rereading The Bubblegum Zone probably had something to do with this.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Knighthood (2) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Violence, harsh language, the usual.

Spoilers: Up to Chosen, Red Eye's, Possession, and Return of the Joker.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to a bunch of other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: The fate of the human race hangs in the balance... again. Sequel to Fifth Knight and One Eye's.

Author's Note: What? Didn't anyone get the On Leather Wings reference in part one? I was sure there'd be at least one person out there who'd mention it...

* * *

The quartet moved through the Ladys 633 building until they reached the elevator. Sylia hesitated before activating the code that granted access to the Knight Sabers' hidden facility. Her gaze bore into Batman like lasers.

"Take off the mask," Xander advised.

"But..."

"Off," Bruce said. "Now."

With a sigh, Batman doffed the mask, and Xander blinked. His head whirled around to look at Bruce, "He's just a kid."

"Older than you were when you started, from what you've told me," Bruce replied, unwavering.

"Yeah, but I was just the sidekick," Xander snorted.

"So am I, half the time," groused the teenager. He extended a hand, "Terry McGinnis."

"Shouldn't you be wearing red or green tights, then?" Xander snarked, shaking his hand.

"If you two are quite done," Bruce interrupted, "I'd like to see what Miss Stingray has accomplished."

"Yes, Mister Wayne."

"Almost, Bruce."

Bruce rolled his eyes.

Sylia keyed in the command code that sent the elevator to the Knight Sabers' maintenance facilities: the workshop, hardsuit storage, and more. She still felt uncertain about the whole affair. Bruce Wayne's extensive knowledge of her contacts and the presence of the new Batman was enough to convince her that he was probably telling the truth, but...

Quite frankly, it was Xander's own reaction to Mr. Wayne that had reassured her the most. Xander had shattered her nice, comfortable worldview when he'd first arrived, but Linna -- whom she trusted with her life -- had vouched for him. If she hadn't, Sylia would probably be well on her panicking right now.

"Xander," she said, "I've been meaning to tell you. Your new hardsuit is ready." When the dust had finally settled after the incident with Largo and the hyperboomers, Xander's hardsuit had taken a serious beating. While it was salvageable, he had approached her with several requests, and she had decided to acquiesce.

Besides, the white knight joke was getting old, and she was getting tired of hearing him complain about it.

When she finally stopped and pulled off the dust cloth that concealed the hardsuit, the reactions were... varied, to say the least.

"Schway," Terry commented.

Xander let out a distinctly undignified squeal of joy, clutching his hands together in front of him, "It's... perfect..."

Mr. Wayne, on the other hand, groaned and buried his face in his hands, "You didn't."

Sylia blinked at Mr. Wayne in confusion, "Excuse me?" She looked back at the hardsuit, trying to figure out what Mr. Wayne found so objectionable about it.

Though not as graceful as the others, it was still a sleek design, its paint gleaming under the harsh flourescent lights of the hardsuit bay. The face plate was more human-like than the other hardsuits, even including a pair of mock eyes and a mouth speaker. The hands were half-plate gloves -- chain weave with segmented armor plates on the backs of the hands and fingers -- rather than the remote manipulators or full-plate gauntlets the other hardsuits had, allowing for greater manual dexterity at the cost of greater vulnerability. Ovoid cowlings bulged and extended protectively over the hands to compensate, and the extra internal space was put to good use.

Knuckle bombers on the cowling combined with folding sword blades in each arm to round out the hardsuit's melee weapons, much like his first suit. The ranged weapons had received an upgrade, however. Both arms now mounted a railgun, while the extra room in the arm cowlings were given to a pair of pulse lasers, one in each arm. Another, much smaller, pulse laser emitter was mounted in the chest to provide a surprise to his opponent if he got into a grapple; it was an idea that she was considering adding to the other hardsuits. On the back, behind each shoulder was a modular rail mount in case a mission called for heavier weaponry or more specialized gear, though they weren't visible at the moment.

She had wondered about the red and gold color scheme he had demanded, though. It had seemed... unlike the scarred veteran.

"You built him an Iron Man suit?" Mr. Wayne finally said, his eyes boring into her incredulously.

She blinked again. "'Iron Man'?"

Mr. Wayne continued to look at her for a moment before he sighed and hung his head slightly, "No, of course not. You don't know who that is, or you wouldn't have let him do it."

"Oh, knock it off, Bruce," Xander said, not taking his eyes off the hardsuit. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's to enjoy life's little pleasures before you go completely insane." Xander paused and then finally looked at Bruce, "Never mind. Forgot who I was talking to."

* * *

"Ahh, nothing like the smell of opportunity," the old man said as he emerged from the airplane and stretched, inhaling sharply. He was still a fit man, but age was clearly catching up to him... and fast. His steel-grey hair was tied in a ponytail, but his dark eyes were as sharp as they were forty years ago.

"That's the smell of smog, Dad," the young man behind him said. "You know, you really didn't have to come. Owen and I could have handled this. You're not as young as you used to be."

"No one ever is, Alex," the old man said. "You should know that by now. Besides, Quincy rebuilt Tokyo after the Kanto quake, just as I rebuilt New York after the Pulse. The least I could do is meet the man." He looked over his shoulder, "Owen, shall we?"

"Of course, Mister Xanatos," the twenty-something blond man nodded.

* * *

The day had been long and tiring for Xander, between Bruce grilling him on his analysis of the Knight Sabers and Sylia running him through the wringer in training with the new hardsuit.

"Honey, I'm ho-ome!" he called cheerfully as he opened the apartment door. After a little explanation, the out-of-place greeting had become something of a private joke between him and his two guests. He frowned at the lack of response, "Anri? Sylvie?"

"In the bedroom!" Anri's voice called out. He ambled in and knocked politely. She opened the door and waved him in.

"Where's Sylvie?" he asked as she stepped between him and the door and shut it.

"She went biking with Priss," Anri replied. "They probably won't be back until late." Her voice dropped huskily, "Leaving us alone for the next few hours.

He turned quizzically, "Huh? Mmph!"

Xander felt the heat rising within him as she kissed him hard, one arm snaking around his back while the other cupped the front of his pants. She gently pushed him backwards, toward the bed, and he offered little resistance. Her lips were delicious, her smell intoxicating, and he felt a electricity shooting up and down his spine.

His libido was suddenly at full strength, though reduced in the past thirty years -- being the only male consistently present around over a dozen beautiful Slayers did wonders for improving his self control -- and it was screaming at him to seize the opportunity before him: She was beautiful, built for sex, and obviously willing.

Another part of him, though, refused to give in. Why was she doing this? He couldn't fathom why Anri would suddenly try to jump his bones like this, and an errant thought set off alarm bells in his mind. She was built for sex. Did she really want this? Or was this something else?

He wrenched himself free and crab-walked backwards across the bed until he stood on the other side of it. He watched Anri warily, and a look of shock, hurt, and confusion crossed her face.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Alarm suddenly crossed her face. "Was it... was it Sylvie that you wanted to...?" she trailed off.

Okay. Obviously, there was something going on here that he didn't understand. Stay calm. Be rational. Don't overreact.

"What the hell is going on here?" he sputtered.

She flinched and said, "I-I was just... trying to repay you."

"Repay me?" he said dumbly. "For what?"

"You saved our lives," she said quietly. "A-and when I asked you why, you never answered. So I thought... I thought you wanted..."

Suddenly, it all fell into place, and Xander repressed a snarl of anger at the people who did this to them. He did groan in frustration as he considered how to handle this.

"We're friends, Anri," he said firmly. "When friends talk about owing each other favors, it isn't serious. It's just... friendly banter. You're free now, Anri, or as free as anyone else is, these days. You should never ever feel obligated to pay for anything with your body, you hear me?"

She nodded silently.

Xander sighed and walked around the bed. Gathering her into a comforting hug, he murmured, "Oh, what are we gonna do with you, Anri? You really don't know what it means to be free, do you?"

"I'm... I'm scared," she said quietly into his shirt. "I just... it's so different down here."

"Shh, I know," he said, stroking her hair comfortingly.

* * *

Author's Postscript:

Spot the hidden crossover!


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Knighthood (3) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Violence, harsh language, the usual.

Spoilers: Up to Chosen, Red Eye's, Possession, and Return of the Joker.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to a bunch of other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: The fate of the human race hangs in the balance... again. Sequel to Fifth Knight and One Eye's.

Author's Note: Here we go.

* * *

The phone rang.

Xander bolted upright... or tried to, anyway. He blinked in surprise when he realized his right arm and half his body was pinned to the bed. A shock of deep green hair spread out across his chest nearly sent him into a panic until his short-term memory kicked in. He had sat with Anri on the edge of the bed, trying to console her, until she'd fallen asleep in his arms. Trying to set her down on the bed and leave had been a futile effort on his part, as she had unconsciously grabbed onto him with an almost vise-like grip, so he'd settled in and must have fallen asleep.

It was only when that last tendrils of sleep had finally fled him that he realized that the phone had stopped ringing a while ago. The bedroom door opened, and he looked up curiously. Sylvie slipped in, an amused smile crossing her face as he shook his head and pointed at Anri in denial of what it had to look like.

"It's for you," Sylvie whispered, handing him the handset. She turned and left, adding what had to be a deliberate sway to her hips on her way out.

Xander groaned and awkwardly brought the handset to his ear. "Xander's House of Resurrections," he quipped. "Fifty percent off if you bring the body at time of purchase."

Pause.

"Willow? Do you have any idea what time it is here?"

Pause.

"No, Will, she's just a friend who needed a place to crash."

Pause.

"I am not equipping an army of boomers, demons, or any combination thereof. What on Earth made you think I was doing something that crazy?"

Pause.

"Rally told you about that?"

Pause.

"Oh, she called to double-check the programming."

Pause.

"I know I'd break my shoulder trying to fire that monster, Will. It was just a hypothetical exercise. It's not like I actually asked her to build it, now, did I?"

Pause.

"Well, there ya go," he said triumphantly. "I'm serious, Will. I was telling the truth: I ran into Linna, and when the whole situation was dealt with, I decided to take a long vacation and reconnect with her."

Pause.

"Okay, so maybe there is a bit more to it than that, but it's nothing you need to worry about, okay? Nothing apocalyptic, I promise. You can ask Linna if you don't believe me. Listen, since you're on the line already, could you do a search of the Council records for me? Check for Slayers that might be in MegaTokyo."

Pause.

"I know we don't have any active Slayers here, Will. I'm looking for known bound Slayers. I ran into one a while back. She was hurt pretty bad, and I unbound her so the Slayer healing could kick in."

Pause.

"The damn building collapsed on her is what happened. You heard about the terrorists who hijacked the USSD sats?"

Pause.

"Yeah, she got caught in the crossfire."

Pause.

"Thanks, Will."

* * *

Xander yawned as he stretched and clambered out of bed. This time, he had woken up naturally, and Anri was no longer sleeping half on top of him. He yawned again and shuffled out into the living room of the apartment.

He stopped dead when he saw the three people sitting out there.

Anri was half curled up in his La-Z-Boy, Priss was sitting backwards in one of the folding chairs, and Sylvie was perched on the couch arm.

Anri was blushing furiously, while Priss and Sylvie were grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"What?"

"Rise and shine, lover boy," Priss's grin broadened. "I hear you didn't get much sleep last night."

"Huh?"

"You know," Sylvie teased.

Xander blinked as his half-asleep brain tried to process that, "Hey, I was just trying to comfort her, right, Anri?"

Anri nodded.

"Suuure," Priss said. "And you just thought you'd look good with red lipstick?"

"'Lipstick'?" Xander repeated dumbly. He reached up and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Staring at the red smear, he blinked, "Huh."

Priss scowled, "You're no fun. You're supposed to be indignant and denying everything loudly."

He looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe I would be if I were, y'know, awake," he said, dead serious. As he puttered around with the coffee maker, he asked, "What are you doing here, anyway, Priss?"

"Didn't Sylia tell you?" she frowned. "There's some guy she wants you to introduce us to. Linna's got her aerobics class, and Nene's on morning shift today, so it's just the two of us."

"Oh, right," Xander muttered. "Terry. Forgot. Gimme a half hour, and we can go. Anri wanted a ride to Sylia's, so we'll stop there first. What about you, Sylvie?"

"I'll go with Anri."

* * *

"Chairman Bradley offers his apologies, Mister Quincy, but he has fallen ill and is unable to attend," the vice president of Gulf & Bradley bowed apologetically.

"I understand," Quincy rumbled in reply. "Send him my condolences."

Bruce Wayne watched the gathering with eyes that remained sharp despite his age. The years spent as Gotham City's nocturnal guardian had given him an uncanny ability to read people. The G&B VP was vastly out of his league, though the company he represented was certainly one of the top players present.

The Xanatos Enterprises contingent -- David Xanatos; his son, Alexander; and their personal assistant, Owen Burnett -- were all veterans of the game. Bruce saw an equal, of sorts, in the elder Xanatos. The man was clearly not one who was afraid to take a personal hand in things, and they had crossed paths many times before. Burnett moved with a level of competent efficiency that suggested he was born for the job.

Bruce's own Wayne-Powers rounded out the quartet of major players at the table.

Dominique Destine III was much harder to read. Some of her body language was downright alien, even to Bruce's broad experience, but one thing he did realize was that, whatever else she was, she was a fighter. She also seemed to hold a degree of well-controlled contempt for the others here, which intrigued Bruce, considering that Nightstone Unlimited's net value meant she was a small fish in a very big pond.

Alistair Cromwell -- here on behalf of Omni and its new partner, Zone Corporation -- was wisely holding his cards close to his chest. While he represented enough assets to theoretically challenge the four larger corporations present, the reality was far from that. Omni and Zone's partnership was a recent affair, one that was still plagued with enough internal conflicts to make them effectively a non-player.

There were a few other minor players represented, but they were easily dismissed. Quincy's focus was on the others, and Bruce's focus was on Quincy, though Ms. Destine's peculiar body language had earned his attention. He had given Terry the day off. The young man's brashness was the last thing he needed here.

"The reason I have invited you here," Quincy spoke quietly, his voice demanding attention, "was to consider the current state of affairs within the boomer and robotics fields. However, to be perfectly blunt, the recent terrorist hijacking of the USSD satellites and subsequent destruction of Genom property has altered the situation slightly, and we have suffered a considerable setback."

Someone gasped in surprise, but Bruce didn't pay attention to who it might have been. For Genom to admit weakness was rare enough. For Quincy himself to this open about it was mind-boggling.

"Because of these setbacks," Quincy continued, "several of Genom's projects will have to either be shut down, delayed, or find alternative resources. Each of you here represents a corporation capable of providing those resources, and Genom is now willing to offer certain business arrangements with you."

Quincy must be desperate. The smaller companies were probably doomed to be absorbed into Genom if they agreed, but to offer partnerships to corporations like Xanatos Enterprises and Wayne-Powers, corporations powerful enough to rival Genom, was a huge gamble on Quincy's part, one that could easily backfire.

Bruce wasn't all that surprised. He'd seen first-hand what those particle beam satellites could do when Joker had hijacked one mere months ago. That someone with a vendetta against Genom had managed to tap into the entire network and destroyed three Genom Towers around the world... even a conservative estimate of the damage ranged into the hundreds of billions.

* * *

It was an odd convoy. An old, rusting, full-size van with blackened windows and a brushguard trundled along with a high performance racing motorcycle. The annoyance from the biker was palpable, as she frequently got ahead of the van and then had to slow down for it to catch up.

Finally, they arrived, and Priss glared at Xander. "Did you have to drive ten clicks below the speed limit?" she demanded sourly.

"In this clunker?" he shot back. "Of course!"

"That's bullshit!" Priss snarled. "I've seen you cranking that rust bucket over two hundred!"

"You saw a van that looks like mine going over two hundred, that's all," he said innocently. "Surely, it's just a case of mistaken identity. After all, the license plates certainly don't match, or Nene would have mentioned it, wouldn't she?"

Priss glowered.

"Stay here," he said. "I'm heading a few blocks over, and you'd look a little out of place at the Saint Regis in those biking leathers."

"The Saint Regis Hotel?" Priss blinked. "Who is this guy?"

"His boss is something a high-roller," Xander explained, "and he's footing the bill." He reached in and hung a camera by a strap around his neck. "How do I look?"

Priss took in the painfully bright orange and yellow Hawaiian print shirt, the khaki shorts, the sunglasses, and the wide-brimmed hat. The camera just completed the image. "Like a tourist with more money than sense. Why the disguise?"

Xander shrugged, "Never hurts to practice, and besides, it's less hassle this way."

* * *

At the Ladys 633 building, another pair greeted the owner. Leaving Mackie to man the Silky Doll's counter, Sylia invited Anri and Sylvie to the privacy of her apartment, the very same room that hosted Knight Saber meetings.

"So, what brings you two here?" she asked. "Have there been any problems with your new identities?"

Sylvie shrugged and looked pointedly at Anri, who was fidgeting and staring at the floor.

"Anri?" Sylia prompted gently.

Finally, clenching her fists, Anri looked up and met Sylia's gaze, surprising her with the fiery determination in her eyes.

"I want to join the Knight Sabers."

* * *

Author's Postscript:

Sorry, folks, but neither Iron Man nor Gargoyles is the hidden crossover. Iron Man technically isn't even a crossover in this 'fic, as in this 'verse, Iron Man is a comic book character, and Gargoyles is far from hidden.

Can you spot the hidden crossover in this chapter?


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Knighthood (4) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Violence, harsh language, the usual.

Spoilers: Up to Chosen, Red Eye's, Possession, and Return of the Joker.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to a bunch of other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: The fate of the human race hangs in the balance... again. Sequel to Fifth Knight and One Eye's.

Author's Note: Here we go.

* * *

"Excuse me?" Sylia raised an eyebrow.

"You heard me," Anri growled, surprising both Sylia and Sylvie with the heat in her voice. "I want to join the Knight Sabers."

"Anri..." Sylvie began.

"Perhaps you'd care to elaborate?" Sylia said coolly, cutting Sylvie off.

Anri took a deep breath and said, "You can use an asset like me. As a 33-S, I contain C-series components, components which allow a superior interface with combat mecha. I'm somewhat stronger and faster than a human, and I can take more punishment. Also, my... other components -- as well as my non-existent past here on Earth -- make me ideal for undercover work."

"I see," was Sylia's even reply. "And why do you want to be a Knight Saber?"

WHAM!

Sylia and Sylvie both started when Anri slammed her fist through the coffee table. She snarled, "I refuse to be helpless again!" Her voice became ragged as she continued, "I've spent... my whole life... as a victim." She looked at Sylvie and whispered, "Even after we escaped, I was helpless. I needed you and Xander to save me." She whirled toward Sylia and announced, "Not anymore. Make me a Knight Saber, or I'll find another way to be strong."

Sylia wondered what other ways Anri had considered. The possibilities ranged from the relatively benign -- joining the AD Police, for example -- to the downright terrifying... like stealing another battlemover.

"I'll consider it," she said finally. "We'll test you at Raven's tomorrow. Eight PM. Don't be late."

* * *

"Nice wheels," Terry noted, eyeing Priss's bike appreciatively.

"Thanks," she said warily.

"Priss, Batman. Terry, Saber Blue," Xander introduced them with a straight face... that didn't last long.

He grinned as Terry sputtered and Priss gaped at him. If looks could kill, the furious glare that quickly replaced the shock on Priss's face would have been enough to melt steel.

Luckily, Xander was used to such looks from females, so he shrugged it off without a second thought, "So, we good?"

Priss shot one last glower at him before turning to size up the teenager. He wasn't really all that much younger than her. Probably around seventeen, a mere two years younger. Of course, as was often said, it wasn't the years, it was the mileage, and considering the crap she'd been through...

But then again, this guy was Batman. If anyone was likely to understand, it was him.

She decided to go back to the earlier topic, before the bakayarou -- Xander -- had interrupted. Stroking the top of her motorcycle, she said, "She's not stock. I've had a lot of work done on her."

"I noticed," Terry said. He walked around the bike, giving it a closer look, "Pity, though."

"What?"

"I've seen your suit," he scoffed. "No one who wears heels to a fight could possibly be a serious biker."

Xander groaned and shook his head. _Open mouth. Insert foot._

Priss glared at Terry, "First, I don't design the suits; Sylia does. Second, I'm a better biker than you'll ever be."

"Oh, yeah?" Terry shot back. "Prove it."

"Fine," she snapped. "I dare you to ride the Highway Star."

"'Highway Star'?" Xander frowned. "Isn't that Mackie's experiment? The seven hundred horsepower monster? I heard you wrecked that thing, Priss. Twice, even."

Priss punched him in the face.

* * *

"You didn't have to hit me that hard," Xander grumbled as he held the tissue pressed against his bloodied nose.

"I said I was sorry!" Priss protested. "Anyway, I thought you were the big hotshot veteran," she snarled. "Why didn't you dodge it or something?"

"You caught me off-guard," he shrugged. "You're not a demon, it was daylight, and then you punch me in the face with no warning."

"You've spent the whole morning trying to piss me off, and you're surprised I hit you?" she sputtered in disbelief.

"Hey, you started this," he glowered. "I'd never do anything like that to Anri, and you know it, or you'd have been gunning after me in your hardsuit."

"And this is a guy whose job is to save the world," Terry deadpanned, shaking his head. "It's a wonder we're all still alive."

"Hey!"

* * *

Whump!

Terry groaned as he lay in a heap. He had had a feeling that he would regret taking Mr. Wayne's suggestion and asking Xander to teach him a few tricks of the trade. He was right. The quips at Xander's expense probably hadn't helped.

After a quick rundown on what works and what doesn't against vampires and some generalities on common hostile demon species, they had hit the mats.

Or, more precisely, Terry had hit the mats. Again and again. And again.

And then, after a while, he was sure that the mats were hitting him back while Xander was still bouncing on his toes like Matt on a sugar high.

_There is no way I'm telling Max about this..._ he thought.

Xander offered him a hand up, and Terry warily accepted it. One of the first lessons Bruce had taught him in hand to hand was to always expect an attack; he'd driven the point home by offering him a hand up and then using the grip to apply leverage and send him flying again. While Xander didn't seem to play by those rules -- at least for now -- Terry wasn't about to let his guard down.

"Why don't you spar with Priss for a while?" Xander suggested once he'd helped Terry to his feet. "I'm gonna get some air. Try not to kill each other."

* * *

To the outside observer, the expression on Quincy's craggy face would have been inscrutable. Only someone who knew him very well would be able to see past the layers of iron control to the deep concern that lay beneath.

No such person existed.

The three who were present, however, could be said to be the ones who knew Quincy best, as they each held the coveted position of Special Assistant. The first was Katherine Madigan. The violet-haired woman had been a little... distracted... since the Largo incident, but she remained efficient at her duties and loyal to Genom, so Quincy was willing to overlook whatever personal issues had come up in her life... for now, at least.

The second was a tall, gaunt man with a sickly pallor to his skin. He looked almost like a walking corpse, but he projected a palpable aura of menace. His name was Victor Smith, and he was known to be cold, ruthless, and calculating. He allowed only one emotion to rule his actions; no other affected his decisions. That singular emotion was ambition. It was something Quincy would have to be wary of later, but Smith was no fool. He would continue to serve loyally, for in his view, what was good for Genom was good for him. He was no threat to Quincy... for now, at least.

The third was the newest to be granted the position of Special Assistant, promoted to it with the untimely demise of his predecessor at the hands of the Knight Sabers. He was an utterly nondescript man of average height and average weight, with brown hair and dark eyes. Unlike his colleagues -- or his predecessor, Brian J. Mason -- Andrew Jones was utterly forgettable. Which was just how he liked it. He had accepted the position reluctantly; he would have been more comfortable staying at his old position heading one of Genom's many small subsidiaries, but his initiative and quiet efficiency had garnered Quincy's attention, and he was not about to allow Jones's talents to continute to go to waste there. He had still not fully accepted his new position, but Quincy knew it was only a matter of time.

"Do we know the origin of this nanovirus?" Quincy asked.

"Not specifically, Mister Chairman," Madigan shook her head, "but the nanovirus was discovered in your android duplicate after the summit meeting."

"And its purpose?"

"Unknown, sir."

Quincy nodded. "Madigan, continue to head the investigation into the nature of the nanovirus. Smith, make sure no one leaves the city. If this nanovirus is harmful, we cannot allow it to spread. Jones, track down the representatives who were present at the summit. Find out who is responsible."

"Yes, Mister Chairman," they chorused.

* * *

"So, anyway," Xander said as he walked with Nene and Linna, "I left them to spar with each other when I went to fetch you two."

"You left them alone?" Nene blurted out in amazement. "They'll kill each other!"

"You really need to stop treating Priss like that, Uncle Xander," Linna said. "She's not a rogue Slayer."

"No, of course not," Xander nodded agreeably. "She's a biker."

Linna rolled her eyes.

"Not that the two are mutually exclusive," he continued, "but they do demand similiar measures." He quickened his pace and opened the door. He stared for a long moment, blinked twice, and closed the door. Turning back to Nene and Linna, he leaned against the door and said, "So, anyone up for pizza?"

Nene blinked in confusion as Linna, after a moment of thought, smirked, "Your treat?"

"Nah. I'll get Terry to spring for it."

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

The three of them were lazily eating their pizza when Priss and Terry emerged from the training room. They stopped in the doorway when they caught sight of the trio.

Linna smirked, "Have fun?"

"Uhh..." Terry stammered as both he and Priss flushed.

"I never knew sparring could get so... involved," Xander commented airily, shooting them both a knowing look.

Nene looked between the two pairs and wondered what the heck was going on.

* * *

Author's Postscript:

No hidden crossover this time, sorry. Last chapter's hidden crossover was not Robocop. The Omni from last chapter is Omni Co. Ltd. from Bubblegum Crash, not Robocop's Omni Consumer Products. Part two and three's hidden crossovers are two different crossovers.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Knighthood (5/?) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Violence, harsh language, the usual.

Spoilers: Up to Chosen, Red Eye's, Possession, and Return of the Joker.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to a bunch of other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: The fate of the human race hangs in the balance... again. Sequel to Fifth Knight and One Eye's.

Author's Note: Here we go.

* * *

"Good morning, Andy." 

Andrew Jones scowled at the slender blond man who had spoken. James Gilford was one of the many people who had been jockeying for the position of Special Assistant in the aftermath of Mason's death, and one of the few who did not hide his displeasure when Jones had been recalled to the Tower to take the position. The animosity between Jones and Gilford had grown quickly when Jones refused to bend before the more experienced exec.

Jones could have eliminated Gilford -- that much was within his power -- but that would have meant stooping to playing Gilford's game, the same game Mason played before he died, the game that seemed to rule the upper echelons of corporate Genom. Jones refused to do that. He was not an ambitious man. He just wanted to do his job -- whatever it was -- and retire to a reasonably comfortable life, and while his new position had put a kink in those plans, he wasn't about to give them up. In his mind, engaging in such petty power games would be the final surrender.

"Good morning, Gilford," Jones replied, stressing the name and emphasizing the formality.

Gilford bowed apologetically, "Mister Jones, there are rumors regarding the meeting yesterday afternoon. If you could shed some light on the matter, it would go far to quell them."

"The Chairman's business is his own, Gilford," Jones said evenly, "and I have been taken into his confidence. I cannot say more."

"I see," Gilford bowed again. His eyes tracked Jones as the Special Assistant continued on his way.

It was only a matter of time before Jones slipped up, and when he did, Gilford would be there to reap the rewards.

For his part, Jones continued along on his task. It had been easy to reduce the list of likely perpetrators. Only a handful of the representatives even had the technology or resources to acquire such a nanovirus, and of those, some could already be eliminated.

Zone/Omni was an unlikely candidate. While they might have been desperate enough, getting the two corporations' to both agree to such a drastic measure was unlikely to occur so soon after the partnership began. Furthermore, Zone Corporation was based in Japan, and they were unlikely to want to infect their home country.

Wayne-Powers was also unlikely, albeit for different reasons. Had Derek or Paxton Powers still been in charge, Jones would have suspected them in a heartbeat, but Bruce Wayne was a man who had spent decades building an impression of corporate respectability... if not personal respectability. Despite the persistent rumors linking Wayne to the HARDAC incident decades ago, his gut told him that Wayne wouldn't have done something like this, and he had long ago learned to listen to his gut.

Gulf & Bradley was near the top of the list of suspects. For all the interest they had shown in a partnership with Genom, it was awfully coincidental that Chairman Bradley had claimed illness instead of arriving personally.

Xanatos Enterprises was another prime suspect. By all accounts, David Xanatos was just as ruthless and self-serving as any of the corporate sharks within Genom, and he certainly had the technology to do so. Like Wayne, Xanatos's company was one of the first in the fields of robotic technology. That Alexander Xanatos had inherited Cyberbiotics -- another early robotics giant -- and subsumed it under Xanatos Enterprises added to the suspicion.

He couldn't quite pinpoint why he suspected Nightstone Unlimited. It was a relatively small company, and while it did engage in bioengineering, it didn't really have the nanotechnology necessary to create the nanovirus. Still, his gut told him to watch out for them.

He was not about to dismiss any possibility out of hand, though. He had assigned a 33-C to monitor each of the representatives who had been present -- no matter how unlikely -- and had assigned the more likely suspects a pair of 55-Cs as well.

* * *

Elsewhere within the monolithic Genom Tower, Victor Smith was overseeing his own task. He noted with satisfaction that the trio of Bu-12B battle boomers "released by terrorists" at MegaTokyo International Airport last night had done sufficient damage to require a minimum of two weeks before enough repairs could be made to begin even partial use for international flights. 

That one of the boomers had just happened to get into the city and wreck a bioresearch lab, unleashing on the city a new strain of influenza that was being studied there... well, that was simply unfortunate. The AD Police and JSDF had, of course, instituted quarantine measures immediately.

He rose and looked out his window, overlooking the city he had just infected with a deadly virus, and he felt a faint twinge of regret at what he had had to do. One day, this city would be his, and harming his own property went against his nature.

But, in the end, it was only one city. Genom ruled the world.

* * *

Katherine Madigan growled in frustration. The nanovirus remained stubbornly inert in the samples they had acquired. All it seemed to do was replicate to a certain concentration, spread, and then replicate back to that same concentration. That the nanovirus had surely already spread throughout the Tower -- that she herself was probably already infected -- made her skin crawl. She hadn't had herself tested yet: partly because she didn't really want to know, and partly because she was unsure what else the test might reveal. 

Either it was programmed to respond to some sort of activation signal, or there was a timed program embedded in the nanovirus. If it were the latter, there was nothing she could do to learn more from it until it activated, so she focused on the former possibility instead.

* * *

"Why don't we have something like this, Boss?" Terry asked. 

"Because," Bruce replied, "we don't need it."

Behind them, Xander pressed his lips into a thin line disapprovingly as Anri stepped into the combat chamber. He had tried to be supportive -- the last thing he wanted to do was keep her from making her own choices -- but it was hard to stifle his own protective instincts, especially with the memories of last night's boomer rampage still fresh in his mind. Although Nene mentioned that the ADP had handled two other Bu-12Bs earlier before the Knight Sabers got there, by the time they arrived, third one had left a real mess; a lucky hit from its 46mm railgun had crumpled his new hardsuit's breastplate and left his chest covered in a massive purple bruise.

So he tried to stay in the background and held his peace.

His concern did not go unnoticed, though. Sylia shot him a concerned look before smoothing the worry off her face and turning to the control console, "Anri, we'll start you on Level One and go from there. This won't be an accurate test, since you'll be tired by the time you approach your actual level, so we'll need to repeat this later. Your objective is to avoid being struck by the projections and strike the target when it appears. The target will appear three times, and you will have three minutes. Do you understand?"

Anri nodded wordlessly.

"Begin."

"She'll be fine," Linna murmured from beside him, placing a hand on his arm.

"It's not the test I'm worried about," he said bluntly.

* * *

"Arm strength, five point three. Leg strength, seven point two. Perception, eight point four. Reflex speed, three point two eight." Sylia looked up from the results and added, "As I said, your reflex speed rating will need to be retested later, when you've rested, but overall, you've done well. I'll have Linna or Xander train you further." 

"I'll do it," Linna said hurriedly. Sylia cocked an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged, "Uncle Xander can't even spar with anyone except Slayers."

"She's right," Xander finally spoke up. "I'm either holding back too much or going all out. There's no in-between for me."

"Yeah, I sorta noticed that," Terry grumbled.

"Bruce, I didn't know you still accepted apprentices that whined like five year old girls."

"I am going to tell Barbara you said that, Xander," Bruce shot back. "You do realize that, right?"

Xander shrugged, "So?"

"She still has the photos," Bruce replied, cracking a small smile.

"Can't be," Xander replied. "I swiped the negatives not two days after they were taken."

"Two days is hardly soon enough when dealing with her," Bruce pointed out. He suddenly doubled over in a coughing fit.

"You okay, Boss?" Terry asked, concerned.

Bruce cleared his throat and straightened, "I'm fine." He looked at Xander and smiled, "You may have the negatives, but she has copies. I've seen them."

Priss stared at the bantering pair and looked at Linna, "What...?"

"Don't mind them," Linna replied, rolling her eyes. "It's the evolved equivalent of grunting and flexing their pecs."

Xander looked at Linna, "You, missy, need to remember that I still have all kinds of photos of you that your mother gave me to use to embarrass you, got that?"

Linna blanched, "I'll be good!"

"By the way," Bruce said, "Terry and I will be extending our stay in MegaTokyo a little. Last night's boomer rampage shut down the airport, and the quarantine is making no exceptions."

"Well, I guess MegaTokyo has nothing to worry about for a while," Xander quipped.

Sylia looked over at him, "What do you mean?"

"Well," he shrugged, "Bruce here represents the height of American industry, still going strong despite what happened in oh-nine. You have access to your father's most cutting-edge technology. And me? Well, I wasn't gonna bring it up until later but... I've had some of my contacts funnelling some 'destroyed' weapons from Her Majesty's Royal Marines to me."

Sylia's eyes narrowed, "Like what?"

"Mostly small arms, heavy weapons. A half-dozen anti-armor particle accelerators."

"And?" Bruce prompted.

"Well... there might be a couple of..." Xander coughed, "...CE-101B combat exoskeletons."

"And?" Bruce prompted again.

"Well, just possibly... there might be..." Xander coughed again, "...anextgenerationbattlemoverprototype."

There was a moment of dead silence.

"I'm impressed," Bruce said quietly. "It takes a lot of guts and resources to smuggle something like that into MegaTokyo without Genom finding out."

"A... battlemover?" Sylia asked, her eye twitching. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Fielding that kind of firepower is not only reckless but irresponsible. The kind of response that would provoke could very well destroy half the city."

"Hey! It's just for emergencies!"

* * *

"So what's up, Sylia?" Xander asked. As everyone had started to head out, Sylia had asked him to stay a few minutes longer so she could talk to him. 

"It's about Anri," she said. "You're worried about her."

He sighed, "Of course I'm worried about her. Aren't you?"

Sylia was taken aback, then nodded, "Yes, of course. But I'm more worried about what she might do if I don't let her join."

"So am I," Xander said quietly.

"There's one other thing."

"Yeah?"

"I was comparing Anri's results to the 33-S normal ranges in the data files Sylvie acquired from GPCC, in case there was something wrong."

"And?"

"I ran into another piece of data. The 33-S uses a volatile organic memory matrix. The repairs we made to Sylvie shouldn't have worked," Sylia said bluntly. "Her memory should have been corrupted or erased after that long without power. Did you do something? Something... magical?"

"Short answer?" he shrugged. "Yes. Long answer? It was mostly her. I cast a spell. As long as her soul wanted to stay in her body, it could. That's all I did. The rest was her having the will to stick around -- blind, deaf, and mute -- while we fixed her."

Sylia rocked back on her heels, "So... boomers have souls."

"Not all of them, I don't think," Xander said. "I couldn't tell you what qualifies something to have a soul. It's not brains. Plenty of very smart critters out there don't have souls. Vampires, for example. It's probably the same with your average combat boomer. But Sylvie? Anri? Yes. Most definitely."

"It's... hard to take in," Sylia said hesitantly. She lowered her head, "My father created them. He made them in humanity's own image." She looked up at Xander, "Does that make him a god?"

"No," Xander said quietly, reaching up to brush her hair out of her eyes. "It makes him a father."

* * *

Author's Postscript: 

Whee! --does the Snoopy dance over his new copy of BGC EX--

Also, I finally came up with a title for the overall series this 'fic is part of. The series shall henceforth be known as Knights in Crisis.


End file.
